


No Escaping

by Lanyonn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Heartbreak, I'm not sure how to tag this really, Love, Love Story, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Lanyonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur tries to get away from Eames. It shouldn’t be this hard, especially since Eames isn’t even trying to pursue him. But it is impossible in a way Arthur had imagined things would never be impossible for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Escaping

**No Escaping**

 

When Arthur looks back, Eames is looking at him.

 

Terminal Four of LAX is uncharacteristically low on crowds this evening so even after Arthur has almost reached the Arrivals Exit gate, he can spot Eames still standing near the conveyor belt. He has his baggage piled on a luggage trolley but he is going nowhere. He should be moving towards Terminal Six from where his connecting flight to Berlin departs in two hours. Arthur hadn’t meant to listen in on Cobb and Eames’ conversation about the next job Eames has lined up but he couldn’t help it. Just as he couldn’t help stopping and turning back before leaving the airport for good.

 

Arthur hasn’t been able to help himself when it came to Eames at all.

 

He didn’t make anything of it when he first met Eames three weeks ago. Eames was just another Forger. Arthur was just another Point Man. Cobb, the Architect, was the reason Arthur had flown to Miami for the job. He had met a couple of other Forgers before – they were a rarity but they weren’t rare enough for Arthur to make much of meeting Eames.

 

But then Arthur had seen what Eames could do and Arthur couldn’t get Eames out of his mind. At least that was the lie he had had told himself his third night in Miami when he had laid awake, acutely aware of the fact that Eames was in the room just next to his in their hotel suite. Eames was charming and smart. He laughed at Arthur a lot and it annoyed Arthur but Arthur was a gentleman.

 

So was Eames, Arthur surmised, when Eames walked in on Arthur having a shower the next morning. Arthur had probably been too sleep-deprived to lock the bathroom door. Arthur had got an eyeful of Eames’ decorated upper body.  Eames had gotten an eyeful of Arthur’s, well, everything. Arthur had felt the heat in Eames’ gaze as their eyes had met. Afterwards, he could get aroused just thinking about the way Eames had looked at him. However, at that moment, Eames had merely stepped back, begged his pardon (in a gratingly British accent, too), and left, making a point of closing the door behind him.

 

Over the course of the job, Arthur had caught Eames staring at him a few times. Eames had been unapologetic about looking, even smirking smugly at Arthur once when their employer had been flirting with Arthur – he had been stoically refusing all advances. Arthur hadn’t been in the least perturbed by their employer’s flirtations but one look from Eames and that sinuous curve of his plump lips had sent him into a hot frenzy. He had found some work to take him away from their makeshift workroom and spent the rest of the day well away from Eames.

 

It wasn’t all one-sided though. Arthur had spent fair amount of time sneaking glances in Eames’ direction when he was sure Eames wasn’t looking. He was far more subtle than Eames but like Eames, he couldn’t help it. He’d be looking even before he knew what he was doing. And then he couldn’t turn his eyes away until he had had his fill. He had noticed that, unlike him, Eames did not wear any rings on either of his ring fingers. Eames did, on the other hand, wear a wristwatch _and_ a pocket watch. He also wore a gold necklace some days, which Arthur would have despised on anyone but Eames. It was disconcerting how much it suited Eames. Arthur’s mouth had gone dry imagining how he would love to lick the cool metal along Eames’ neck and then lift it up with his teeth. That time Eames had almost caught Arthur staring – almost.

 

So when Arthur turns and sees that Eames is still standing where he left him, Arthur doesn’t doubt anything. At this distance, they cannot make eye contact but Eames is standing there, completely unconcerned about the people rushing about all around him and he is looking straight at Arthur. Arthur knows. He has only turned back to look at Eames.

 

Arthur feels butterflies in his stomach but at the same time his heart sinks. The gold band on his left ring finger is tight and heavy.

 

He turns away and leaves the airport.

 

After that, it becomes a pattern.

 

They meet over a job once or twice a year but Arthur carries the memories of Eames so heavily that it is as if he has to face Eames every single day of his life. Eames never more than looks at him – not even when he gets piss drunk in Dublin the weekend after they finish the Romano job. Arthur isn’t one to linger after a job is done. But Eames is staying on for a while and it isn’t just Arthur who is staying back, the whole team is there. It wasn’t a dangerous job and Dublin is nostalgically beautiful even though Arthur doesn’t have a drop of Irish blood in his body.

 

Eames can barely walk after his binge drinking and their architect, Henry, laughs his ass out at him. Arthur feels obliged to offer his help to get Eames back to his hotel room. However, Eames almost seems sober as he politely declines Arthur’s help. Something ugly rears its head inside Arthur as Eames wraps an arm around Henry’s shoulder instead, letting the older man hold him up as they go back to the hotel together.

 

It is seven in the evening back in Los Angeles and Nathan is wide awake when Arthur calls him that night. But Arthur gets him worked up enough for some hurried phone sex. He gets off on Nathan telling him to come home soon because he misses him bad and wants to fuck him seven ways to Sunday.

 

Arthur gets off even more on imagining that it is Eames’ hand around his cock and Eames’ finger playing with his hole. He can hear Eames whisper dirty words in his ears in that heavy rough voice and positively filthy accent of his. He has just come once over the phone. However, the phone is buried under a pillow now and thoughts of Eames keep plaguing Arthur’s mind. He cannot go to sleep unless he has done this. It isn’t the first time he has done this. However, it is the first time he has done this because Nathan wasn’t enough.

 

Arthur stops wearing his wedding ring on jobs after that.

 

However, he also doesn’t work another job with Eames for the next three years.

 

If Eames notices the lack of wedding band around his finger during the Fischer job, he doesn’t comment on it – at least not while they are still working on the job together.

 

 _Déjà vu_ , thinks Arthur mockingly when they land at LAX after Inception goes successfully.

 

He watches Cobb leave with his father-in-law, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. Arthur is more cynical than he was the last time he had landed at LAX with Cobb and Eames. He has forgotten that he is capable of being happy for selfless reasons until the thought of Cobb reuniting with his family makes him smile.

 

When he turns his eyes to meet Eames’, the happiness evaporates only to be replaced by a cocktail of feelings he is too tired to separate out anymore.

 

This time though, Arthur doesn’t know where Eames is headed. Arthur isn’t quite sure when he is headed himself.

 

Eames is looking at him as intensely as ever and it takes a gigantic effort on Arthur’s part to tear his eyes away from Eames’. He grips his trolley handle as he pushes it forward in front of him. However, he has barely covered two yards when he stops. He can feel the weight of Eames’ gaze on his back. It is too heavy for Arthur to be able to walk away from that.

 

When Arthur looks back, Eames is still looking at him.

 

Something flickers across Eames’ face as Arthur starts walking towards him. He stands up straighter, no longer slouching against the trolley. As for Arthur, it is a wonder that his heart hasn’t already broken free of his ribcage.

 

“Arthur,” drawls out Eames, probably aiming for casual and flirty but cannot keep the apprehension out of his voice. Arthur gets a perverse pleasure out of getting under Eames’ skin.

 

Before Arthur can string together a sensible reply, Yusuf joins them. Arthur doesn’t miss the look of irritation on Eames’ face before schooling his features back into his usual expression of friendly amusement.

 

Ariadne joins them soon after and the trio had supposedly planned a vacation together in LA if the job when well. “You should join us, Arthur,” says Ariadne. Arthur is aware of Eames’ piercing gaze on his face.

 

“I _live_ here,” says Arthur offhandedly. “You guys have fun.”

 

He bids them a mumbled goodbye and cannot bear to meet Eames’ gaze as he hurries out of the airport.

 

When Arthur finds Eames again in a club downtown, partying with Yusuf and Ariadne, he tries not to feel like a stalker and fails miserably.

 

It is crowded in the club and it takes a lot of effort on Arthur’s part to locate Eames half-sprawled on top of a table as he chats loudly and drunkenly with Yusuf who is yelling back at him over the thudding of the base and grating music. Arthur hadn’t even noticed Yusuf was at the same table till he got within a foot of the duo.

 

Yusuf, however, is the first to notice him. “Arthur!” he exclaims, inordinately happy about seeing him there.

 

 _Too much alcohol already_ , thinks Arthur.

 

Eames’ head jerks up in surprise – does that count as a point for Arthur? The goofy smile falls off his face and he sits up straighter. Arthur wonders if Eames really turns sober every time he looks at him or if he’s just really good at faking it.

 

“So Ariadne really did call you!” Yusuf guffaws and Arthur doesn’t bother to correct to him. It is too loud for any conversation and Yusuf looks dangerously drunk.

 

Arthur slips into the booth beside Eames and takes a sip of his cocktail. Eames is sitting uncomfortably stiff and Arthur glances at him before looking pointedly at his drink. “You can’t hold down your whisky,” he says, leaning close to Eames to speak right in his ear. “Let me buy you a cocktail.”

 

“I like my Scotch, thank you,” replies Eames, staring at Arthur as if he has sprouted another head. Damn, Arthur really gets off on that gobsmacked look on Eames’ face – he could come just from it.

 

Ariadne joins them soon after, breathless, sweaty and looking fabulous in a black and silver halter dress. “Arthur!” she yells at him. “Come on! Dance with me!” However, Arthur is a spoilsport. But Eames is uncharacteristically willing. Yusuf snorts into his drink and for some moments, they are all distracted as he seems to have sucked the alcohol down the wrong tract.

 

Arthur had promised himself that he isn’t going to get drunk. However, it is hard to resist buying a second cocktail and then a third and a fourth as he has dark thoughts about how he has no chance with Eames and for years, he has been aching for a man off limits for no reason except his own wild fantasies. So when Eames croons a loving, “Darling,” in his ear, Arthur is startled and splashes the Long Island Iced Tea all over himself.

 

“Not able to hold down even our cocktails, are we?” Eames is gloating.

 

Arthur tries to frown at him but doesn’t quite achieve the right effect as he stumbles off the barstool he had been perched on. Eames is quick to wrap an arm around his waist and Arthur bites the inside of his cheek as he is drawn closer to Eames’ sweaty warmth.

 

“Let’s get you home,” says Eames, some of the smugness melting into concern.

 

“I’m alright,” slurs out Arthur, unable to keep his hands to himself. He wraps his arms around Eames’ body and buries his face in his neck. Eames arm either tightens around his waist or it is his imagination. In either case, Arthur is content. For years, Arthur has fantasized about what it would be like to have Eames in his arms. However, the first time Arthur hugs Eames, it is devoid of any flutters in his chest and butterflies in his stomach. His heart is as complacent as if Arthur was eating scones with jam and looking forward to a long, warm bath. He feels like he is going to fall asleep on his feet. He presses closer against Eames when he feels warm lips against his neck and his arms grow taut – he is hugging Eames so tight.

 

The next thing Arthur remembers is stumbling but not hitting the floor as Eames holds him up. He hears shrill drunken laughter and vaguely thinks, Ariadne. Eames helps him inside a hotel room, removes his shoes and belt, and tries to get him into bed.

 

“No,” says Arthur, operating on some instinctual fear as he refuses to let go of Eames. He isn’t quite as oblivious of his surroundings as before now and turns to look at Eames who is regarding him with an unreadable expression. Maybe it is just Arthur who cannot read him anymore.

 

Eames’ hold on Arthur’s waist relaxes as he looks at him. Arthur steps closer to him but Eames restrains him with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Awfully presumptuous, aren’t you?” says Eames, gripping Arthur’s shoulder hard, his hold painful as he exercises the last of his control to hold back. His words are spoken slowly and clearly enunciated. It has a sobering effect on Arthur. He repeats them over and over in his head, his heart cracking a little more every time he repeats them to himself.

 

The more he looks at Eames, sees the hard lines around his eyes and jaw, the heartbroken expression in his eyes, the more he comes back to himself. The sense of placid intimacy that had enveloped him when he had hugged Eames is shattered to pieces. Arthur’s armour is forced on him again; he is the only one who can protect himself now. Eames is no longer there to hold him off.

 

Eames is no longer there.

 

“Sorry,” Arthur manages to choke out, horrified to hear the agony in his own voice. He is devastated. He shrugs off Eames’ hands and steps away from him.

 

Eames looks troubled, tries to take hold of Arthur’s hand, but Arthur will have none of that. “No,” says Arthur and jerks his arm away from Eames’ touch as if he has been burnt. Eames’ shoulders droop down but he doesn’t try to stop Arthur as the latter walks out of Eames’ hotel room.

 

The pain of his broken heart weans Arthur out of his alcoholic daze more than the chilly night air. He walks down two blocks before realising he has no idea where he is. He stops and hails a cab. When the cabbie asks him for a address, Arthur has the mad urge to dash back the way he came and throw himself at Eames, cry, beg him, do anything but head back to his empty home.

 

He knows Eames will have him, he knows Eames won’t be able to bear seeing him like that and he will do anything Arthur asks of him. He knows it just like he knows he should not do it for the exact same reason Eames will give in to him if Arthur throws himself at him. Eames might have pretended that he is good at resisting Arthur but Arthur knows that is still a lie.

 

So Arthur croaks out his address as he slumps back in his seat, looking out at the cold night numbed with the sort of pain he hadn’t thought it was possible to survive.

 

**_Finis_ **

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, this came to me while I had Adam Lambert's For Your Entertainment on endless repeat. Thanks for reading.


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